#caretaker slash mentor slash sibling slash parent relationship

[ikemenomegas]

over the horizon is the great machine of death

a/n: chapter 212 gutted me, like I'm sure it did to many others. I wrote this immediately after, but had to wait for further chapters to make sure that my guesses were mostly correct. I don't think gege will kill maki (... knock on wood. knocking on so much wood, going to redwood forest to kiss a blessedly tall tree), so I decided not to wait any longer. This piece is consistent with the rest of the "my younger years" fic chain. Title comes from The Curtain

summary: you knew that there was nothing you could do, but there really is nothing you can do. ghosts will keep pealing away the last pieces that matter

c/w: spoilers, the whole thing is spoilers, parent-child relationship between reader and the fushiguro siblings

"Hello?"

Up north, it is already cold. Over the blue slate cliffs, grey clouds press down like the palm of god. Hello rises up to meet them, dissipating all too quickly.

You know who it is. You hope - no you wish because what good is hope for a sorcerer - for good news while hello drifts in the air. Too many other options wait for their dark names to be spoken out loud.

Maki is very quiet on the end of the line.

In that long moment, everything is alright.

"We lost Megumi."

She says it without inflection, and the first thing you think of is her sister. Nothing would be able to compare to losing the other half of yourself, the person who had been with you for the entire arch of your life.

"What to you mean 'lost'?"

It's a stupid question. You've gotten this call before. Lost means gone means dead, but lost also means slipped out of your pocket, set somewhere out of sight, don't know where it went, might find it between the couch cushions later.

Megumi was once that small. Satoru had sat on him, muffling his furious outrage, pretending not to know where he was when you tried to ask Megumi what he wanted to wear on his weekend field trip. Tsumiki had played along, told you his bags were already packed. You'd found out from the pictures that Satoru had kept you from finding a kumamon bucket hat, little black ears poking from the brim. Megumi wore it and a put upon expression in almost every photo from the trip.

Take your lives

Had they encountered... the colonies weren't impossible to enter but surely the thing wearing stolen skin wouldn't risk joining the cull. And together he and Yuuji should be able to handle a special grade curse. Megumi had mentioned the bridge in an abbreviated text and the students' mission reports said the rest.

He would only have refused to listen if Tsumiki was...

"Whe-"

"It was Sukuna." Maki's voice carries the edges of anger.

"What happened to Yuuji?" you ask, incredulous. He'd had it under control, even at three quarters cursed.

"He's fine."

"How can he be fine? Maki, what happened?"

And she tells you, stopping and starting again as she finds the words. You imagine you hear a shiver in her voice to match the roar and creak of ice as it springs up from nothing, dries out the city for three blocks around the epicenter.

What had been the last thing you'd said to him?

You'd said a lot over the years. For all of Megumi's resistance to being burdened by others he took on a lot. There had been a time when you thought he didn't like you talking, but when you had fallen silent for too long, he would ask some question or press close to add his hands to yours in whatever you were doing. Always afraid to ask for too much.

"Tsumiki is lost too?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

His sister was possibly the only person in the world for whom Megumi would first think to live.

There's a murmured interlude on the other side of the phone. You force your feet to move, take you further up the slope, keeping the crash of the ocean in your ears. You can't blunder about blindly. The boundaries out here cut cell signal as easily as they do perception. No amount of boosting the bricky satellite phone's capabilities is going to fix that.

"She's one of the reincarnated players now," Maki says, and it takes a great of amount of self control not to break something or scream into the cold sea-salted wind.

Tsumiki who had never been sure if she wanted magic to be real or not, who let her brother go out with someone who was barely an adult, whom she forced herself to trust even when her brother returned with dull eyes and slumped shoulders. Tsumiki who wanted to believe that there was good in the world anyways, that maybe there was something sacred and precious about a world that would have thrown her away without a thought, the strongest of you all for keeping her heart alive.

"Are you still in--?"

"Yeah." You're trembling, insides gone shaky and cold. Distantly, you know this is shock and that you should get moving before Maki hears it. "I have a meeting with one of their captains in the morning, if I can make it in time."

Hokkaido is peaceful, readying itself for winter. In the morning, frost crackled across the windows of the wheezing, ancient car you bought for cash off some farmer at the coast. You had to abandon the car to walk the rest of the way to the barrier, but you were reassured by some bowing attendant, who had taken the keys with as much reverence as if they belonged to the seven geared monstrosity Satoru had bought for you, that the antique you'd arrived in would be well cared for as you braved the Ainu trials.

"Good luck," Mai says gravely.

"You too," you say quietly.

You hope that somewhere on the other side, Yuuji can hear you. You don't know what comes next for them, the plan insofar blown beyond hell, but they will need it when they go to bring the bodies back.

You share another long silence with her. You'd looked forward to teaching her. Only age and experience and the fading words of someone long gone had given you anything she didn't already have, but you'd looked forward to seeing her only get better, to tallying the matches between her and Yuuta and seeing if you could find Toge something that suited his gentle hands.

You'd looked forward to a lot of things.

The line goes dead with a tiny click.

One leaden step after another, you turn away from the cliffs.

It's too much. Surely all of this is more than one person will have to bear in their lifetime. No wonder sorcerers die young.

The giggle that escapes your mouth has you wobbling sideways, hand going to the rough bark of a tall pine spearing upwards. Its stripped trunk creaks higher above you. If you wanted, you could pull that movement through the trunk and shatter the whole thing from the crown to roots.

You grip your head, fingers tight against your scalp, heel of your palm pressed to your temple. Get it together. But all you can see are the kids, yours and not yours - bright eyed weekends at cafes and book shops with Tsumiki, sharing late evening teas with Megumi while he honed the focus needed to maintain his summons, their subdued delight when Satoru swung them high in his arms, the tug of a hand at your sleeve when you changed a record on the turntable.

The shaking in your body has to go somewhere and with your legs feeling weak, the tremors escape through your mouth, pilling together until they escape as an unstoppable laugh. Your other hand comes up to grip your head too, as though to keep your mind contained inside.

For the first time since that single terrible dream, you want Satoru out of the box, if only so he could lay eyes on Megumi and Tsumiki and tell you if there was any hope left at all. But just as quickly, you are again you're glad he's not, because he'd take it on himself to look their familiar bodies in the eye and lay them to rest.

Laughter is a poor wrapper for such a bitter pastille, but you can't seem to stop throwing it out in plumes of steam.

If you had been born without your curse, you'd never know about any of this at all. Even losing it all now to a sorcerer's inevitable end, from a place so far you cannot even imagine doing more than you already are, you should be grateful, you are grateful, that this was yours for even a moment.

You are your anger, and that empty, echoing, hollow place inside of you seems only to grow further with every gasping howl. Something worse is cracking loose. Your eyes sting with it.

There is no other world where you do not lose them. There is only this, and the sudden empty void where that boy and that girl, who you had once helped raise, have finally met their worse than normal ends.

Somehow, that thought is what is most unbearable, bad enough to cut sound from your throat.

Even though you want so badly for it to be possible (and so far away from where it happened maybe you can be allowed to want, just for a moment), even Satoru had said the odds of another vessel like Yuuji were incredibly slim, once in a thousand years slim.

If there was any single miracle in the world, it would bring back Fushiguro Megumi. But for all its magic, neither world he belonged to had ever trafficked much in miracles.

[minteagalaxea]

Abyssal | Wang Ziyi

ziyi and xue

genre: a solid amount of angst, that one steamy bit

word count: 6.25k

inspiration: beach trips

after all, a siren always led a sailor to his death.

note: still trying to figure out formatting, but yeah. it’s messy as fuck.

He grew up in the palace, surrounded by political intrigue, perfection the only expectation of him, hence, freedom was a wish he could only yearn for. He smelled of leather, fresh parchment, crushed velvet, of musk, a culmination of odd, yet enticing scents. The young gentleman spoke with a gentle timbre, proses of literary classics pouring from his lips in a thoughtful, wistful fervor, the tunes of particular songs escaping his lips during a state of contentment; however, the naive genteel he possessed seemed almost a dream, for his true persona realized itself with specially sharpened canines, feral in an interestingly refined style.

She grew up a product of the unforgivable, the unrealized, the unfathomable. Raised with half of a mother, no father, and a brother that understood as much about the world as she did, she dreamed of belonging, in a place where such thoughts remained unacceptable. The scent of ocean water, bitter mint, and soft silk chiffon wafted from her figure, softer fragrances, though she held a vicious killer instinct, a fact she hid from everyone in her surroundings.

Lin Xue and Lin Yanjun were accepted by a kind Hamadryad, mentoring the siblings in the craft of woodsmithery, where the sister discovered a proclivity in creating beautiful paddleboards and surfboards, and the brother found solace in creating windchimes and other decorative pieces. Every evening, the siblings settled to drag their mentor-slash-caretaker-slash-secondary-parent with them to the ocean, each carrying paddleboards to the shore. Despite the adamant refusal of Yue Yue, their caretaker, their nightly tradition persisted—mainly because they agreed that Xue's smile was the prettiest, especially with the moonlight gracing her features, making her seem more ethereal, yet lethal, with her smart mouth and cruel teeth.

Prince Wang Ziyi recalled first meeting the siblings during the morning market, ironic for his particular species, hence the umbrella he carried with him to protect the sun from scorching him. He admired the intricate carvings on the paddleboards and windchimes organized neatly, each piece characteristic to its maker and their preferences. The young boy took an interest in an ebony racing paddleboard, the deck engraved with an uneven chevron pattern, alternating between an icy mint, pale grey, and white. The paddle itself was the same, certain parts of the shaft painted in a more equilateral chevron pattern, flowing into a part of the blade.

"How much to purchase this paddleboard?" he requested, secretly placing his compelling ability to use, presuming Yue Yue, the more talkative of the trio, would answer; however, a harsher voice responded, his power purportedly ineffective against her.

"It is not for purchase, sir."

Subsequently showing the underside of the paddleboard, her name—Lin Xue—painted with stunning calligraphy in the front of the board. She returned to her workspace, finishing the minuscule details on the all-around paddleboard requested of her, carving out the name of the purchaser, painting it black, before varnishing it with lacquer, allowing it to shine. The prince watched her perform her task, enthralled by her movement, intrigued by her brother's smile at a Naiad, who handled the transaction, though Ziyi didn't question it as the other male's flirtatious glance towards the customer had the desired effect, the girl turning into a blushing mess, while Xue elicited a giggle.

"Yanjun, might you stop attempting to compel Jingyi to allow you to court her?" Yue Yue questioned, despite the laughter.

"See if I ever help you with Bu Fan, then, if you continue to speak in that tone," Yanjun snapped, seemingly playfully, yet Ziyi recognized from the undertones of his quip, he wasn't entirely joking.

"Zhenyang is still utterly perplexed at why you even have romantic feelings for a literal man-child—actually, dog-child," Xue chimed, earning a pout from her mentor, before averting her attention back to the prince in front of her. Motioning him towards her, the girl began to write a compilation of details she understood he wanted, coming to a realization that the person in front of her didn't know the various classifications of paddleboard and surfboard, yet typed out the specifications he requested, telling him to come back the following morning to pay her and receive his board.

"Might you need my name?" Ziyi inquired.

"I assume I should already know the name of the future king?" Xue countered, bending over the table to meet him eye-to-eye with dizzying proximity, it seemed intoxicating to the prince. Pulling away, the girl delved into the register, before grabbing a faded peach sweater, almost to shroud something she didn't want others to see.

Xue meandered around the market, eyeing the artisanal pieces of jewelry and apothecary-esque goods that felt more of a luxury than a necessity, though, she resorted to purchasing various teas and a small parcel of herbs, occasionally haggling for a lower price for anything remotely expensive. "I thought your body hated the sunlight?" an inquiring voice wondered aloud, Xue turning her figure to see Zhenyang, a close friend, with a dopey grin plastered on his face.

"My body dislikes the sun; hence, I can stay out in the radiating sun without experiencing an irritating death, Oceanid," she retorted, a shadow of a smile crossing her face as soon as it came, doe-like eyes gentle, yet impish. Zhenyang's own doesn't fade into obscurity, in fact, widening as he strode towards her, modelesque in his style of a walk—Li Zhenyang was regarded as the most handsome Oceanid on the island, and he exploited that knowledge as he deemed it necessary, traditionally in conjunction with his friend's antics.

Xue groaned in mock-annoyance at the sight of her closest friend grabbing her belongings to carry back to her home, realizing the ulterior motive of the action. Simultaneously, the girl frowned with her friend, whose attention seemed more on her exposed skin rather than herself as a whole; Zhenyang being worried felt to be an understatement. "Lin Xue, remind me of the last time you dove into the ocean?" he inquired, the abrasiveness in his tone predominant, only succeeded by concern, "Your scales are showing even more than usual, Xue, and I don't think it's healthy for you to be so negligent of your health."

"Pain is weakness leaving the body: Yanjun always told me that and seeing as I still am standing, in what constitutes perfect condition, it should mean something, no?" she mused, her voice a hybrid of perpetual annoyance and insatiable exhaustion. Zhenyang settled to not speak further about the matter, in hopes of not angering her, while also to not remind her of the compilation of her near-death horrors, which occurred on one-too-many occasions that neither of them wanted to recall.

The evening sky scared the nymphs, most of whom inhabited the village Xue resided in, mostly due to their unabashed fear—or hatred, Xue conjectured the former—for the aristocracy of their society: vampires; brash, arrogant, and sadistic, a majority enjoyed humiliated their societal underlings. Though unlike a majority of her nymph-like counterparts, Xue chose to heed no mind towards the supposed superiors, understanding that if she managed to not attract attention from them, they would have no intention of disrupting her existence. The paddleboard incident, as Xue often referred to it, affected how she intended to live the rest of her immortal life on the island, lest she wasn't executed for whatever blasphemous crime she committed that evidently was made up to spite the working class.

Moonlight basked over the girl, her paddleboard close to her frame as her bare trekked across the warm sand, a gentle smile on her face as she heard her brother rush over towards her, claiming, "You are a terrible sister, Lin Xue," in mock offense.

"I know, Yanjun," she responded, a sense of insouciance in her tone as they began to paddle out to a cove some reasonable distance away from the island, neither of them speaking a word as they opted to find solace in the waves of the ocean and moonwake, the midnight shade shining from the light. The tenalach the siblings shared with the body of water appeared unique to them, characteristic to their nature—nymphs had their own genetic bond towards the sea, but they were different. Their relationship with the ocean seemed more turbulent, more connected to the water than their nymph counterparts, perhaps due to their peculiar bond.

Nestled snugly into the cove, their apparatuses slightly knocking into the rocks as the siblings sat on the paddleboards, staring at the glow of the glimmering sea with a wistful expression. "Do you ever wonder how our lives might occur if we were born normal?" Xue mused gently, her eyes forlorn as her legs gracefully swung in repetitive motion.

"We have no prophecy, my dearest sister, though, I believe our lives would, inevitably, be more mundane, yet perhaps more limitless; nothing would hinder us from having and retaining a sense of normalcy in our existences," he answered, sentimentality pervading the response.

"Do you ever believe that perhaps one day, our curse might be lifted?" Xue wondered aloud, eyes flitting from the pristine white moon to their legs, liltingly combatting with each other as they sloshed against the tide.

"I suppose we sinned in the life prior, which earned us an eternity of suffering," Yanjun explained, "Had we no immortality, this supposed punishment of ours might have ended now."

"Do you ever wish your trajectory could be different than this; imagine how vastly different our decisions would be if we were only one species?" the sister suggested, her figure sliding from her board and into the ocean, giggling as her brother proceeded to accompany her in the water as she adapted to her new terrain. Prodding and poking and kicking each other with tender affection, the siblings enjoyed the period of peace and insouciance, savoring it for the moment, until the various ringing of the village bell; the siblings rushed back to the cove, rapidly paddleboarding back to shore to avoid capturing attention. Unbeknownst to them, however, they had already earned scrutiny of a particular vampire.

The following day, Ziyi returned to the market, staring at the girl wrap up his board and accommodating paddle, before stating the price of the paddleboard: one hundred gold pieces, with no opportunity for the royal to compel her to discount the cost. Handing her the coins, she checked its worth, before placing it into the register; however, Ziyi observed the subtleties of her pain and the lack of her sibling, arousing suspicion, but chose to not interrogate her regarding her private affairs. Minghui sent the girl concerned glances, though she paid no heed towards them, averting her attention towards escaping the patronizing eyes of her second parent, grabbing her sweater and stumbling outside towards the market with withering posture. Ziyi proceeded to leave the market, returning to his palace and life of luxury, blissfully unaware of the events predestined to follow.

Wang Ziyi held a penchant for explorations, conducting interkingdom trade and forging relationships for the mutual benefits of both kingdoms—other instances, the prince had a passion for joyriding his ship, The Stellamaria. The young man stood on the bow, staring off into the distance, however, the sight of an individual he recognized to be Lin Xue staggering (crawling, really) up a cliff, tossing herself into the ocean.

Perhaps his curiosity overcame him, as he removed the heavier garments of his attire, leaping into the ocean, in a futile attempt to appease his curiosity; underwater, Xue thrashed violently, clawing at her skin, and a fretful Ziyi touched her shoulder, resulting in a series of catastrophic events.

The prince understood a reaction was imminent, but he expected a less...violence, let alone a screech that pierced the vampire's acute hearing—alongside the scream, Ziyi's face became marred with the girl's precisely sharp fingers, rendering him unconscious from the impact of her strikes. She was haunting, with a white tail graduating into an icy mint, two silk-like ribbons furling from the middle of her tail, the ends webbing together in similarity to a fae's wings; her usual silver eyes burned away into a crystalline mint, seeming colder in a way. It remained the final thing he saw before his vision into obscurity as she forcefully swam away.

Xue could only comprehend the concept of pain, the signs of dehydration prevalent the morning after her heart-to-heart conversation with her brother, who disappeared, though the sister knew his location. Exerting all of her energy to propel herself from her resting place, observing the evening sunset, as she felt the rays tingle against her skin in discomfort; draping a beige cardigan over her stature. Aligning her weight onto a wooden staff, the girl hobbled over towards the Cliff, as the inhabitants monikered it, given the rocky terrain of the coastal region, Makai, in comparison to Mauka, the palace region of Mahele—however, her wooden staff snapped from the force of her vice-like grip. Successfully reaching the Cliff, Xue tumbled into the ocean, a scream eliciting from her lips when the water reacted to her dehydrated state, her body beginning to destroy itself, realigning her bones, skin, and muscle to ensure her survival; it started with her fingers, her skin adapting for aquatic survival, followed by her spine, extruding fins. Xue's tail, the most painful part of her transformation, as the lower part of her body destroyed itself to guarantee her life.

She elicited a scream as her transition began, her body deforming, her skin feeling as if it had been set on fire, her eyes especially, as the striking silver tone incinerated into the trademark mint eyes most deepsea sirens held. Halfway through her metamorphosis, somebody touched her shoulder—instantaneously, Xue released a deafening screech, succeeded by various scratches with her newly formed claws, causing her to relieve her mind from the pain temporarily, only for it to return as her legs fused together, her bones and muscles reconfiguring to create her tail. Cruelly, she swam away, allowing the boy to die—in necessity—for her security.

Ziyi woke up, eyes flickering around to find a commonality of location; his bedroom was dimly lit, warm red lights and the scent of leather and smoke perfunctory to him. He observed the various salves and poultices littering his form, a bandage on his forehead the most notable of his sustained injuries. According to the doctor, the prince obtained a multitude of painful wounds, of which the doctor instructed rest and recuperation under the pretense of healing. Sending in an attendant, he requested Lord Zhou's presence in his chambers, impassive upon the noble's arrival, necessitating information on sirens ("for research and further understanding" as he worded it), acquiring the tale from the lord regarding his children.

"Sirens are sentient beings; however, modern conceptualizations state otherwise, but yes, they understand feelings, albeit their spectrum of emotions is limited to that of another species. Part of that spurns from their territorial nature, which does not vary by living terrain—most of my personal experiences came from a deepsea-arctic siren, a culmination of the most dangerous iterations of sirens, and are highly skilled in the art of skullduggery.

"I first met her when I explored the deep sea, which is quite cold in Makai with the various frozen zones of the island. She was hunting, and I heard her sing, and automatically, I fell for her. Perhaps part of me was selfish, as I compelled her to visit me on land, and she ended up bearing a son, followed by a daughter. However, I married Lady Guang and had Meiji, which perhaps hurt her—I suppose it was that reason she chose not to disclose the mater, and, consequently, my children, justifiably, despise me for what I did to their mother, who raised them, and I have never met them.

"I suggest you heed with caution if you ever encounter them, Your Highness, as their abilities are much more potent, a fusion of their precursor's unique powers, hence they will not hesitate to attack if, and when, provoked—I have no doubt they are beautiful, enchanting even, though they will kill for survival or entertainment, whichever they choose."

Bidding his farewell, Lord Zhou departed from the prince's chambers, allowing him to cogitate over his newfound information and the most effective means of utilizing it. Resolutely, Ziyi traipsed to the library, scavenging for anthologies and compilations of works regarding sirens, scarce in comparison to other literary pieces glorifying vampires. Through the Baroque-esque window, the prince caught sight of tidal waves crashing against the rocky coast of Makai, a luxury Mauka experienced without having to fear for potential property or physical damage. The natural violence enchanted Ziyi, finding solace in the sound as he pored over the proses of literature.

Two creatures fervently propelled against the water, predators in a sea bountiful of prey, as they hunted for, quote-unquote, dessert, spying on a small school of fish by the benthic region of the sea, their nimble fingers gripping onto a piece of fish, effectively decapitating its head from the rest of the body. Naturally, their bodies rushed back to their cove, dining on their meal absentmindedly, tails gradually increasing in speed in a jocular attempt of a race.

"Yanjun, heed with caution as you enter the cave," a motherly voice chided, the oceanic vernacular heavy in her speech and diction.

"Mother, despite his height, I assume my brother can majestically traipse into the cave without much effort," Xue noted smartly, her vocal tone similar to her mother's when speaking vernacular.

"Always a sarcast, Xue—you never let mother have her fun," Yanjun mocked jocularly, earning an equally playful snarl from his sister.

"You have no right to act high and mighty, Lin Yanjun, especially when I keep seeing you flirt with a mermaid." The brother glared at his sister, who could only send him a cruel smile as he proceeded to punch her arm out of annoyance; however, the sun rays pierced their near-indestructible skin, the siblings hissing in consequence to the reaction.

"Already, it has begun," their mother whispered forlornly, "Even though you are my children, you never belonged to me, have you?" Yanjun and Xue couldn't respond, only staring at the illecebrous ocean out of curiosity and wistfulness.

"Mother, fretting about it does no good," Xue murmured, a period of silence preceding the chosen words, "This is enough for us."

Perhaps a week later, Ziyi remained cautious, yet curious regarding the pair of peculiar siblings, as he hadn't caught sight of the brunette and blond; the prince noticed the brunette gazing at him with an outlandish expression. The prince, however, couldn't find the blond, though, he chose not to ask about her presence, wary of the answers he might receive, yet the impavid aspect of his character wished to inquire about the enigmatic paddleboard maker.

The royal dined with his family, attempting to avoid the prattle of his impending marriage—a ball was to be held the proceeding evening, with ladies from various kingdoms attending to become his betrothed. However, Ziyi prayed he could escape the dinner as soon as possible to watch the sunset low-tide. The Baroque window in the library provided him a stunning view of the brunette woodsmith conversing with a nymph before proceeding to paddle into the ocean with his hands, tentatively standing to crash onto the waves easily, deftly.

Trekking out to the beach at its midnight high tide, Wang Ziyi attempted to stealthily follow Yanjun, who exchanged his surfboard for a paddleboard, out into the seas, endeavoring to mimic the motions the elder initiated. Against the high tide, the elder sped up, movement remaining calm, yet containing undertones of a franticness as he strove to reach a particular location in a specific amount of time. The royal, with considerably less exposure to the water than the Makai native, struggled to maintain a strong following, as even his vampiric speed proved futile against the other's affinity for water and superior speed; eventually, the movement seemed routine. Reaching a cave a ways from Mahele, the prince heard a piercing screech, rushing to the source of the sound, appalled at the sight of a siren with light seafoam skin mutating, her figure contorting and the dissonant of bones breaking resonating in the cave.

Temporarily, Ziyi overlooked the warning Lord Zhou bestowed upon him, haplessly touching the siren (despite understanding the repercussions of his actions fully)—the siren opened his old wounds, reestablishing their bleeding and open scars, and producing fresh ones as her claws scratched various parts of his face, her tail-slash-legs pushing the young man off the ledge and into the deep. However, Ziyi returned to land rapidly, wincing as his accelerated healing entered, and from peripheral vision, noticed Yanjun rushing towards his sister with blinding speed after the transformation completed itself—Xue's frame shook, exhausted and lightheaded as she forced herself to dress into a bikini top and shorts.

"Zhenyang brought your paddleboard over," Yanjun informed, "Where is your staff?"

"My grip broke it when I was on The Cliff," Xue answered softly, "You understand remarkably well how our beautifully erroneous strength has its...idiosyncratic malfunctions." The girl slowly hobbled towards her paddleboard, stabilizing herself as she and Yanjun paddled the back towards Makai and Mahele, with Ziyi only to follow, interest overcoming him to remove his train of thought from the injuries.

As the sun began to set, Xue felt the accustomed burning tingling on her skin increase into a fiery sensation that overwhelmed her entire being with a precarious vigor. Weakly swimming to the cave, the siren hoisted herself up onto the rock, awaiting her transition back from siren to human (by technicality, not human), wincing as it already begun, her skin breaking to restore its more humanistic attributes—the fins and gills on her back retracted back, her spinal structure realigning itself to adapt to its new landscape. Reminiscent of the week prior, someone placed a hand on her shoulder, almost as if to still herself from flailing about, inciting wounds to reopen or form with her claws, and her tail, which wasn't entirely reverted back to legs, forcefully kicked her supposed attacker into the ocean.

Her tail revamped its formation, finally turning into her legs, compiled of her flukes condensing themselves as the soles of her feet, ribbons contracting into the skin that shielded her femur, fibula, and tibia, both of which reconfigured into individual structures. Finally, the pain ceased to a halt, an indication of her complete metamorphosis, allowing Xue to breathe a sigh of relief, smiling frailly as her brother handed her a swimsuit to dress into, considering her nude state. The girl forced her body to stand on its feet, maneuvering her stature to maintain balance on the paddleboard, strength increasing in correlation with the exhilaration Xue felt returning home against the tide.

Wang Ziyi wandered around the market the following morning, determination coursing through his system as he scoured for the paddleboarding siblings, smiling in relief upon locating their presence. As he approached them with a sense of confidence, the royal stopped in his tracks upon hearing a series of lyrics that seemed foreboding, though he heeded no mind.

"Breathe breathe me in, taste my words, let me blow your mind—I will take you far, far away," a voice sang, soft enough to be undetected, but at a loud enough frequency as to which Ziyi's enhanced hearing could process the melody. Unconsciously, his steps faltered as he neared the girl, seemingly at her mercy, to which he was, unbeknownst to him; Xue leaned up, whispering, "My friend Zhenyang heard about a ball tonight in your honor—is that affirmative?" Mutely, the nod confirmed her question, a twisted smile crossing her face as she resumed her deceptive attack, "Place my brother and me on the guest list for the evening, would you?" Another mute nod later, Xue fluttered a cold breath into his ear, allowing him to revert to reality, effectively breaking out his hazy trance, walking away with a perplexed demeanor.

"Lin Xue, what ephemeral movement did you grace the wretched soul with?" Minghui and Zhenyang inquired in unison, the blond sibling eliciting an inhumanly portentous hiss.

"Had I utilized compulsion upon him in the same fashion I potentially perform it on any creature in this vicinity, perhaps I might not live appropriately long enough to recant the tale," she snarled, administering fear amongst her brother, caretaker, and friend, perching herself delicately on her work table.

"The prince displays various gashes that had only recently healed—enough of a diversion to distract him from the horrific reality of his predicament, thus, placing in effect a deadly combination of a siren song and vampiric compulsion."

"Have I ever told you how much of a genius you are, my sister?" Yanjun asked, a sardonic smirk crossing his lips upon the realization (and subsequent weight) of her actions, to which she reciprocated with a smile of equivalent malice.

His suit was made of luscious red velvet and black leather, various gold embellishments lining the sleeves and other decorum of the jacket; the tailors spared no expense into making him appear sultry and enigmatic, after all, fitting perfectly on his stature. He radiated the scent of musk and smoke, illuminating the nature of his character: confident, charismatic, carnal, as he greeted the ludic partygoers with a gentle disposition, never faltering to conceal his trepidation of even holding such a party, to begin with, had his phantom mask not provided enough of a mystery for any young lady.

Her dress consisted of beige silk chiffon (correctly described as zinnwaldite, according to the merchant selling the textile), reaching the middle of her thighs, the sheer quality exposing the expanse of her arms, legs, neck, and shoulders; a brown mantle shrouded her from the brisk wind billowing towards her and Yanjun. They surveyed the various ships and carriages journeying into Mahele, past Makai, and into Mauka, the siblings trekking their own path up the rocky environment of the border between the two sects of the island. "However much longer, Xue?" Yanjun pardoned, the brother appearing dashing in his black attire, "I understand you want to see the terrain of Mauka as we arrive, yet, at this pace, we will not get far." His response was a blur of wind, spurring him on to rush after her, stopping as they arrived in front of the palace, rushing to don their masks as they stood, waiting to be greeted by the royal family.

Her mask was made of lace, rose gold, brandished from the seven seas' underground, and his own was identical in origin, though stylistically differing from the metalwork of his sister's. The guards interrogated them, to which a sly, "The prince invited us," sufficed for entering the lavishly themed social event. Handing her cloak to an attendant with perkiness at its extremities, the siblings scoured around, shrouding their visibility through brief interactions with others and the lack of familiarity between royals. Having to refuse various offers to dance from other people, Xue grabbed a glass of a substance she was curious about; the girl remained dubious regarding its contents, but after a sip, she came towards a conclusion.

"Is it blood, Xue, or is it wine?" Yanjun wondered, politely declining an offer to dance with an especially flirtatious fae, smiling at the confirmation of the beverage as a fusion of blood and wine, an attempt to satiate the vampires' thirst while accommodating other creatures in the estate.

"Excuse me, sir," a voice beckoned, the pair of siblings craning their necks to notice an older, unmasked gentleman of equal height to the boy, an aged woman perched on his arm, and another woman, brighter, more exuberant, eyed them with an inquiring fervor.  The warm eyes of the boy narrowed into slits, a snarl marring his face as he growled his greeting with a venomous sting—a warning to the ostensible members of the elite class.

"Father." In conjecture, the expression of recognition grew apparent as the once amiable expression contorted into one of horror upon the discovery of the younger's identity.

"Are you aware that in the entirety of my existence, I have only encountered you once? You opted not to watch the growth of your children, instead placing your priority over a child with higher esteem, perhaps for the intention of living a life of luxury and commodity while the woman you corrupted suffers in consequence of your selfish intent—you are a pathetic, spineless, power-hungry monster that deserves all the karma the gods can deliver."

The ladies turned towards the smaller girl, beseeching her aid, to which Xue offered none, her face impassive, discounting the frozen bite of her eyes, meticulously practiced to camouflage into the gala. As the girl proceeded to vacate the unpleasant conversation, she whispered, "Spoiled brat," the cause of a wave of tears to crash down on the younger's face; however, the elder remained unaware, considering she left the vicinity immediately.

"Would you care to dance, milady?" a voice hummed into her ear, almost expecting a bristle in reaction, mildly surprised as her reflexes caught the hand around her to twirl herself around.

"I do not dance, Your Highness," Xue responded with radiating confidence, eyeing the prince with an indescribable expression, scrutinizing her pursuer's sense of fashion (which was rather impeccable, as it always was).

In conjunction with the girl's actions, the person pulled her close to him, his right hand's grip firm on her waist, forcing the masked girl to position her left set of fingers on his shoulder, allowing him to lead her in the waltz. "Had you not made Meiji cry," Ziyi reckoned, "I suppose you might have earned my respect."

"That, I presume, is her own doing—she has as much of a cowardly disposition as my father, to which it is none of your concern," Xue pointedly riposted. The prince mocked hurt at the sharp prick of his partner's fingernails, enough to inflict pain, a crooked smile playing on her lips; in turn, Ziyi intensified his grip against the small of her back, the exposure of her fangs revealing themselves.

"It is my concern because it has a connection with you," Ziyi scorned, wrapping her leg against his waist, Xue placing her other leg up, snaking around the back to hit his skull.

"Perhaps it is so, but since when has your kind placed value on your citizens, on other classifications of creatures that loathe at an equivalent, if not, higher, caliber than that of fear or respect?" As the song concluded, Xue whispered, "I appreciate the invitation, Your Highness, but I think whatever relations previously entailed themselves between us should conclude now, before they complicate even further." With her speed, she slipped away from his sights, the prince joining in her game of cat and mouse, darting through the crowds and other locations of the estate before he snatched her wrist, rushing to her a room and locking the door, leisurely sitting on the edge of his bed.

Ziyi's bedroom was dark, with cherry furnishings and bloodred bedsheets, and a chandelier perched above the center of his bed. In a way, Xue supposed, her assumptions were correct, as the fixtures were correct to her imagination, so, as such, the girl leaned herself against the wall, standing out due to the paler tint of her dress.

"I'm aware of what you and your brother are," Ziyi revealed, his response futile to the girl, whose perceptive abilities rendered that conclusion quicker than his expectations.

"Must I congratulate you on your poor deductive skills, Your Highness?" Xue mocked, "Because I believe everyone managed to place two and two together, especially if that onslaught of words didn't attract the attention of twenty creatures in the ballroom."

"I understand why you hate me, Xue, both you and Yanjun," the prince started, trepidation and numinousness overcoming him as her glare grew deadly, her irises darkening as she sped over to him, fingernails applying pressure to his carotid artery.

"You have five seconds to owe a decent explanation before I decide to slit your throat"—the proximity decreased as she leaned into him threateningly, satisfaction shrouded, but undeniably present as Xue felt the trembles of the prince's heart—"And I believe you are aware I would do it in a heartbeat."

"You think I'm identical to your father, like the rest of my breed of aristocrat vampires," he pursued, attempting to portray a confident persona to his potential murderer, despite her lack of amusement in the matter, "I'm in love with you, Lin Xue."

"Nonsense, Your Highness," Xue riposted, "Falling for someone you met twice, especially when they have nearly succeeded in killing you more than once, seems dangerous." Nevertheless, her claws retracted themselves from his neck; however, the distance between the two didn't dissipate, as his newfangled gaze bored into her soul, the recumbentibus allowing him to hoist the girl onto the bed, allowing her to straddle his lap. Pressing her fingers onto her shoulders as she rose to tower over him, Xue pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was rough, sultry, and frustrated—the vampire prince deducted he was her means of releasing frustration, with him willingly accepting it, reciprocating it even as his fingers skated vertically down her spine. Reactively, Xue whimpered, implementing the opportunity for Ziyi to suckle her bottom lip, the girl's fingers raking through his unbraided locks, untying the mask innately. His lips contained notes of rich wine, while she of fresh flowers and effervescent herbs. In conjecture, the young man performed the same task as he felt around for the silk ribbon that blended itself into her hair, successfully locating it to untie, revealing the blond's silver eyes. Forcefully shrugging his jacket off, Xue proceeded to unbutton his dress shirt as the boy latched his lips onto her neck, a hand coiling behind her neck to untie the bow at the collar of her dress.

"Then, should I prove you wrong?" Ziyi proposed in reply to the comment the girl made—Xue resumed unbuttoning his shirt, her lips leaned against his ear while her fingers roamed as they pleased.

"Prove it," she whispered, providing enough incentive for him to tumble her underneath him, wry, carnal, smiles etched on their faces as Ziyi kissed her once more.

Sunlight wafted through the dark, sheer curtains of the bedroom, the usually uncomfortable sensation tingling the prince's skin, who rose to shut them, only to establish that the blond girl of which he slept with, vanished. Frantically, he searched the boundaries of his sleeping chambers, seeing a case on the bench of his bed. Snatching the tube, he opened the wooden roll to unearth the parchment inside—unrolling its contents, Ziyi read the message intrinsically typed onto the scroll.

My apologies, but I do not repeat history.

Resolutely, he rushed to dress appropriately, determined to find Xue, when a guard entered his bedroom, reporting, "Your Highness, the girl has escaped the palace—Lord Zhou and your parents are working to apprehend her from escaping, and she will be brought in for inquisition alongside her accomplice."

"There will be no need, officer; I will settle this issue with the intruder myself," Ziyi responded, speeding down to Makai, in the hopes of reaching Xue before their parents apprehended the girl. Intuitively, the boy searched at her stand, finding her sanding down a piece of wood, flitting away within a blink, sparking a violent game of chase between the two, as Xue managed to evade his clutches barely, locating creative hiding areas, her small stature advantageous against the taller Ziyi.

As she reached the coastal rocks of Makai, her bare feet grazed one particularly sharp rock, an incision made into the sole of her foot, the line of blood serving as a quote-unquote breadcrumb trail for Ziyi to follow as he came across the path. Inspecting the print, the vampiric noble inhaled the minty, oceanic scent permeating the rock, the fragrance intoxicating him as he resolutely dove into the water, fretfully searching for the probable prisoner of Mauka.

"Xue, go!" Ziyi heard Yanjun's voice boom from the Cliff, Xue rapidly swam to their cove, praying for her safety as she innately sensed someone trailing her—settling for the only option that guaranteed survival, the siren-vampire hybrid dunked her head underwater, the addition of water hindering her speed as she sought to reach the abyssal region of the ocean. As if in conflict with her principles, Ziyi's hand snatched her wrist, pulling her towards him, stunned by the radiating seafoam hue of her irises; pulling her into him, his lips on hers, creating a cadence they understood, the royal bewildered as she parted from him, pressing her feet on his shoulders to propel herself upwards, away from him.

The high tidal waves carrying her back to shore; Yanjun retrieved her staff, a gift from Zhenyang and Minghui, Xue sustaining her weight against the stave, physically and mentally fatigued.

"Why?" the brother wondered with an ominous vigor—the sister recognized the sentiment in his tone, methodically formulating her explanation, tedious and menial of a task, yet imposing in nature.

"Perhaps, someday," the sister settled for the two impactful words, ambiguous in and of itself; however, the brother never inquired further as they traipsed back to Makai's beachfront, abyssal, broken, and alive.

Xue could only hope Ziyi found his freedom as she failed to find her acceptance—after all, a siren always led a sailor to his death.